


Bound by Coin (and Nothing Else, I Swear)

by futsch



Series: Hero, Event, Prophecy [8]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M, commission, time for angst!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 07:11:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13359150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futsch/pseuds/futsch
Summary: First off, please thank @rallyaly on tumblr for allowing her commission to be shared with everyone! She's a fantastic artist and it was an absolute joy to work with her. So, bit of a promo for you to go follow her blog so hopefully you'll forgive the advert.Second, as mentioned, this is a commission piece! I've got more stories I want to write than I have time for so when rallyaly said she wanted to have something with Teldryn Sero and his background or former patron, I knew -exactly- what yet untold story I wanted to work with.So, I hope you all enjoy this! I've written it such that it can either be a standalone piece or can be continued if anyone wants to commission future chapters. Thanks for reading! <3, Ash





	Bound by Coin (and Nothing Else, I Swear)

**Author's Note:**

> First off, please thank @rallyaly on tumblr for allowing her commission to be shared with everyone! She's a fantastic artist and it was an absolute joy to work with her. So, bit of a promo for you to go follow her blog so hopefully you'll forgive the advert.
> 
> Second, as mentioned, this is a commission piece! I've got more stories I want to write than I have time for so when rallyaly said she wanted to have something with Teldryn Sero and his background or former patron, I knew -exactly- what yet untold story I wanted to work with.
> 
> So, I hope you all enjoy this! I've written it such that it can either be a standalone piece or can be continued if anyone wants to commission future chapters. Thanks for reading! <3, Ash

Two goblins and a rat. As I sighed, my breath came out in thin clouds against the cool night air. Unless Amwyn had a spectacularly shit hand, I’d lost this round. Not too bad, considering I’d won the last one with both Talan and Cana still playing. 

Amwyn looked up at me from over her cards which she’d kept practically against her nose for the last minute. “Alright, Sero. You wanna risk a draw?”

Before I could answer, Talan laughed but didn’t look up from cleaning his sword. It’s easily the most exotic weapon I’ve ever seen with the way it curves and broadens to the point. “Teldryn, just give the game to the Nord.” He picked the blade up to turn it around and examined it by the light of the fire, brilliant light bouncing off of the now-cleaned blade. “She’s bested us all more times than I can count.”

I grinned, closing my cards into a small stack and letting my arm rest against my knee. “Predictably, Talan would like to see me forfeit.” The Redguard snorted at that, smiling and shaking his head. “What do you say Cana? Seems like my hand has become a group decision.”

The Altmer woman had spread herself out long to rest on her bedroll. After bowing out of the last round of King’s Folly, Cana had been content to keep to herself and stare at the sky. “I say it is  _ far  _ too early in the evening and I’m  _ far  _ too drunk to deal with this foolishness.”

I bent down to pick up a stray bit of wood and threw it at her, Amwyn and Talan watching me. Cana didn’t even look my way as she held up a hand and then pointed at the woodchip. It stopped, then floated in midair like it was floating in water until she flicked her finger. I ducked but a moment too late, the chip bouncing off my head. Amwyn and Talan both howled with laughter, the Nord forgetting about her cards for a moment to let her hand fall into view. I cocked my head to read them from upside down and frowned.

“Oh, damn it anyway.” I reached over to hand her my cards. She turned them over, unimpressed. “You had two-thirds of a coven and a hawk.”

Amwyn shrugged. She grabbed the rest of the unturned deck from the piece of log we’d been using as a table and then neatly shuffled the used ones back in. “Honestly? Wasn’t my best game. Three turns ago, I’d discarded a scroll. I thought you’d  _ at least  _ have something worthwhile so I didn’t think it worth wasting the time. Had I known your hand was so pathetic, you’d been wiped out fifteen minutes ago.”

I clutched my heart and frowned in mock hurt. “How heartless!” Taking in a deep breath, I tried my hand at trying to draw out some tears but instead ended up yawning.

“Someone’s bedtime?” Talan joked. “Should have known the last one to be hired would have the weakest stamina.”

I smirked at him before standing up to sit closer to the fire. “You’re just jealous someone handles a blade better than you, sword-singer.”

He rolled his eyes before waving the comment aside.

Amwyn hadn’t gotten up yet, her gaze stuck on our patron’s tent. From what the other’s told me, Erich Farseer preferred dividing his time between working and cloistering himself off from us, the mercenaries he hired. What words he did exchange were direct and brief.

“Do any of you wonder why Erich stays up through all hours of the night?” she mused.

Cana turned her face towards her. “Who cares? He pays well.”

“ _ Very  _ well,” I added.

“I suppose,” Amwyn conceded. “But I’ve had plenty of patrons. None seemed so…” she glanced down, trying to find a word.

“Scholarly?” Talan suggested.

“Inept?” Cana countered.

Amwyn shot her a look. “Not  _ completely  _ so.”

Cana shifted so she could prop herself up on her elbow. “But you agree that he’s maybe a  _ tad _ unskilled?” She caught me watching their conversation. “You think it strange, right?”

“Me?” I shook my head, stretching my arms upward. “I’ve been with you all three days now and in none of those days have we done anything more than be overpaid bodyguards.” 

Talan got up from where he’d been working on his blade to plop down closer to the fire in between me and Amwyn. He reached over for a bottle of ale and took a swig. “Because that’s all we’ve been. I was the first one that Nord hired. Barely said a full sentence to me after I got paid.”

I arched a brow. “Alright, a bit strange,” I agreed. “But I’ll be damned if I sit around around on my arse.”

The other three mumbled in agreement. From what I understood, Erich Farseer had started picking up mercenaries in Solitude. Talan Sendu was the first, while Amwyn the Unending had come along next from somewhere in The Pale. Cana Spellwatch was hired before me from Riften. By the time he found me at New Gnisis Cornerclub, he’d spent two weeks traveling across the whole of Skyrim collecting hired swords. From what I understood, he wanted four. Now he had us but still hadn’t told us anything. Last night we’d spent at Kynesgrove but he didn’t eat with us, choosing to take his meals in his room at the inn.

Cana tossed her legs up and then threw her whole body forward, her feet deftly landing underneath her. “I have an idea,” she sang as she stood up. If she was as drunk as she claimed, her gait didn’t show it. She didn’t sit down, instead choosing to pace in front of the fire. Its warm glow threw dark shadows across her impish grin and made her short, bronze hair shine. “Let’s draw straws. Shortest has to go check on him.”

Talan clapped his hands, smiling wide. Amwyn and I shared a glance with one another. I arched a brow, grimacing. “And just  _ what  _ are we supposed to say? ‘Just popping in to see if you’re well? Have a good evening.’”

The Altmer waved a hand to dismiss my question. “Whatever pleases you.”

We looked at one another before muttering agreements. Amwyn left for a moment to grab some straw from a shoddy pillow she carried around in her pack. She returned with more than four straws and explained, “Take one, turn around, and break it as short as you’d like. I’ll close my eyes and you put it in my hand with the other straws.”

Doing as she asked, I turned around but didn’t break the straw at all although I acted like I did. All of us turned and gave her our straws. She kept the bundle tight in her hand, presenting it to us. We drew. We compared.

I sighed, examining my straw’s length with everyone else’s. “The new hire always has it the worst in the beginning, don’t they?”

“It’s practically law,” Cana explained, a wicked grin stretched across her face. She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and patted my arm sympathetically. “Besides Dunmer like misery.”

“Ooooh.” I grinned and wrapped the arm Cana didn’t have a hold of around her waist. “I  _ do  _ like making others miserable.”

She howled with laughter before pushing me playfully towards Erich’s tent. As I ambled towards his tent, I shouted over my shoulder loud enough that Erich Farseer would hear, “Alright, alright, you drunks. I guess  _ I’ll _ be the _ responsible one _ and check on our patron.”

Erich’s tent was bigger and more private than one might expect considering we were only here for the night. But once we got to the campsite in the early afternoon, he’d been set on making sure to focus his attention on putting posts into the ground and unfurling the tent he carried around in his pack. From under the tent, I could see candlelight flickering.

“Knock, knock,” I tried joking but didn’t rap my knuckles against the tent flap. Something like a grunt came from the other side. Not sure what to make of that, I pushed the tent flap aside and popped my head in. “Evening, boss.”

Erich didn’t look up from his reading. He sat on his bedroll with a few books and some maps spread out before him. “Teldryn,” he greeted. He didn’t do or say anything else.

I didn’t enter but kept my head in. “Erich,” I replied. The cold air blew against me and I shivered. He didn’t look up. Didn’t speak. “Or do you prefer Farseer?” I tried baiting.

Finally looking up, my patron gave me an exasperated look. “If you wanna chat, just come in already. Freezing my balls off as it is. Don’t need you keeping the tent open.”

I slid in and sat on the other side of the tent, smiling. “My apologies to your balls then.”

He snorted at that and I swore one of the corners of his mouth twitched up.           

Not offering me anything else, I craned my neck a bit to see what he was reading. The maps were just of a few of Skyrim’s Holds. Couldn’t make out the books. “Adventurer in search of excitement?” I guessed.           

Erich threw me a pointed look. His gaze held mine and the blue of his eyes made me lose a breath or two. The Farseers would be a handsome family if they all held the sky in their eyes. “Are you _trying_ to make me reconsider your pay?”           

I threw my hands up and disagreed. “No, no. Pay no mind to my mouth. Never had a patron who did so much research before is all.”

He grunted, shoved aside a map, and snatched another one that was close by.

Perhaps the other mercenaries knew about Farseer’s temperament and this was a nice hazing. I got the feeling that if I said anything else, I’d be forced to do some inane task for the rest of the time I worked under him. Like dig all the holes so we could shit but then bury all the holes that’d been shit in once we left. No thanks.

Instead of chancing more chatter, I watched him. He sat cross-legged, bent over maps and a few open books. Once in a while, he’d reach over and grab a bottle of ale but his eyes never left the papers. His thick, dark hair was tied back but a stubborn strand had come loose. Erich would try and rake it back but it’d just fall back in his face.

No point in wasting more time here, I supposed. But, feeling a bit guilty about taking up his time for no purpose, I stood up and walked over to him. He flinched when I reached down to move the piece of stray hair behind his ear--it was like he’d forgotten I was there at all. The back of my hand grazed the shadow of hair against his jaw. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something but I beat him to it, grinning.

“Seemed like it was bothering you.” I gave him a half-hearted salute before leaving. Before closing the tent, I advised, “Don’t stay up too late. Can’t hold a sword half-asleep.”

* * *

 

 

Mistwatch tower had been a strange adventure to say the least. 

By the time we woke up, broke down camp, and hiked south, the sun was almost at midday. Cana volunteered to be the first to watch our things while the four of us cleared the place out. Amwyn kept mumbling that a few good kicks would do that for us, noting each leaning wall and crumbling doorway we passed. She made quite a few mental notes.

Talan and I took the front while Amwyn and Erich stayed a few paces behind, opening doors and checking chests for supplies. Amwyn knew one or two spells, but--without Cana--I was given the responsibility for the magic in our first job. I flicked my wrist and sparks flew from my fingertips. They swirled prettily around a newly-formed void, the shining light spinning into a flame atronach.

“Hello again, lovely.” With my sword, I pointed up a set of stairs. “Be a dear and burn anything moving whole.”

It spun and then floated in the direction I’d indicated. Talan elbowed me. “Impressive. Wish magic came to me.”

“Wish  _ more  _ magic’d come to me,” I chuckled. “I’ve got nothing on Cana. Destruction and conjuration magics are fun but she could do some real damage.”

“Probably why she wanted to stay behind,” Talan got out before tripping over a loose step. “One wrong telekinesis spell and this whole place would come down.”

Someone shrieked from above us, screeching howls followed by the sound of flames.

“Sendu. Sero,” Erich barked. “Back here.”

We turned, sprinting to return to Erich and Amwyn. Between them was a lanky, balding man. His ruddy face was pockmarked save for his nose which seemed wholly out of place, a tiny and up-turned thing that had snot running from it.

“P-please!” He dropped to his knees, clasping his hands until his knuckles turned white.

Amwyn reached down and yanked him up by his arm. “We don’t aim to hurt you.”

Erich grunted. “Unless you’re part of the Mistwatch Faction.”

The man shook his head, spitting out. “No! I-I’ve come to find my wife! She’s been stolen!”

I wasn’t sure if anyone else saw it, the way our patron tensed up at the man’s admission. Erich bid him to continue.

His name was Christer, he said, pulling and tugging at his shaggy, red beard. His eyes darted around while speaking. “It's my wife, Fjola! I think she's being held in this tower.” His words began running over one another, his breathing ragged.

“It’s alright,” Erich soothed, patting Christer on the back. If the other’s thought it strange, they didn’t act like it. His voice didn’t remind me of a hardened warrior. “Take in a breath, give yourself a moment.” 

No. Erich Farseer wasn’t one of us. These were the actions of a man who’d never killed in his life. 

“I'm sorry, I'm just... you're right.” Christer shook his head and then stopped, realizing that he’d ignored Erich’s advice. He closed his eyes. His chest rose, it stayed still. Then he let the air go. Now, more calm, he started over, “Let me explain. Fjola, my wife, left the farm on errands and never came back.”

I frowned at Talan who shrugged and lifted his hands with the motion. Amwyn stood with her hips cocked and arms crossed, her mouth pursed in annoyance. Erich stayed focused on Christer, his arm around his shoulder. Every now and then he’d pat it and whisper, “It’s alright. Take your time.” 

“It's been months and I've been searching for her since.” Christer sniffed, thick mucus echoing against the crumbling bricks. “I heard a rumor that the Mistwatch bandits were ransoming captives, so I thought she may be here. I managed to sneak past the guards and get this far, but... I don't think I can go on.”

_ Oh, gods _ . I rolled my eyes. This wasn’t happening. We were here to kill bandits, not find lost spouses. The guards he spoke of had been easy to dispatch but they’d also been clumsy and foolish.

“I'm no warrior!” Christer grasped at Erich’s shirtsleeves, begging, “Please, can you look for her?”

When Erich agreed, I watched Amwyn huff. Talan said something in his native tongue and it didn’t sound pleasant. I didn’t say or do anything aside from glower. If anything, we were still here to clear this tower out. We would just pick up a stray woman along the way.

Or at least that’s what I thought.

We’d approached the final room of Mistwatch’s towers, planning a sneak attack on three bandits who were dining unawares. But Erich had changed tactics. He stepped out and dropped his axe, raising his empty hands up.

The clatter of metal against stone had all three of them jumping to their feet, drawing their weapons.

“Easy,” Erich warned. “I’ve got three fine mercenaries behind those pillars.”

“And we have a fool for a patron,” Amwyn spat out. She sat squat between Talan and myself. She held her warhammer steady, no sign of her arms giving out.

“Agreed.” I chanced a glance over my shoulder to see Erich and the bandits speaking. The leader, clad head to toe in fine-looking armor, removed their helm. With the helm under her arm, the woman glared at Erich.

“Step out,” she ordered us.

We didn’t move until Erich nodded. Our weapons stayed drawn, much like the two bandits on each side of their leader.

“Well,” the leader began. “What gives you pause?”

Erich crossed his arms. “We’re looking for a woman named Fjola.”

The leader’s face fell but she caught herself and sneered, “Fjola? How do you know that name, snowback?”

Our patron explained Christer’s request.

She waved at the other two bandits to find some other place to be. “Christer?” she finally said once they’d left. “He’s here?”

“You know him.”

“The fool's my husband. I'm Fjola--or I was, once.” Fjola looked off at the table, meals half-eaten and drinks getting warm. She didn’t meet Erich’s eyes but continued, “Don't you see? I left that old scab. Came home to Skyrim, and found this rabble of bandits. Didn't take much to prove myself and knock them into shape. Now every free blade from here to Windhelm wants to sign on for a piece.”

The three of us stayed silent while Erich spoke to her but we gave each other looks. This was a fine mess and our patron was a fine fool. He asked what he was supposed to tell Christer.

Fjola shrugged. “Whatever pleases you. Just don’t kill him. I don’t hate the old man. I just want him to trudge on back to his farm and forget about me.” She reached into a bag on her belt and handed Erich something. “This is my life now.”

* * *

 

 

We left Mistwatch with Christer in tow. Erich spoke with him privately. Cana raised a brow at our scowls.

“Looks like you lot had a time,” she observed. “I  _ did  _ get to kill skeever. Exciting stuff.”

Amwyn barked out a laugh and cocked her head back to where Erich and Christer spoke. “Our patron acquired a  _ friend _ .”

Cana’s nose lifted in a snarl. “What?”

Talan shrugged. “Coin is coin. We’re not paid to think.”

The corner of my kerchief came loose, its frayed, faded-crimson edge flopping in the bitter wind. I reached up to tuck it back in, turning so I wouldn’t have to fight with the wind. As I was faced towards our patron, I watched him clap Christer on the back and when he looked back at us I could have  _ sworn  _ he was watching me. I didn’t know if he could tell I was watching him too from the thick, clouded glass of my goggles.

I turned back to my companions. They chatted about Erich but my thoughts kept me from fully engaging. Something about Christer tugged at our patron’s heartstrings.

* * *

 

 

We set up camp away from Mistwatch. Erich put his tent up alone while we set up our section of camp. None of us went to the same effort our patron did when it came to shelter. We had lean-tos and a fire. He dug holes for posts, tied his tent down, and placed supporting pins in. Erich liked his space and privacy.

Which was why I was having a serious debate as to whether I should check on him again tonight. No silly games or dares. Something had happened in that tower. Last thing I wanted was a soft-hearted boss. Only one way that would end: him bleeding out and me out of a job. I’d seen how he fought with his war axe. Erich had muscles underneath the fur and paint on his face but he swung wildly in Mistwatch, putting too much power behind each drive.

I told Cana that I was seeing Erich concerning our pay. She made a snide remark about something or other.

Reaching the tent, I hesitated for a moment before pushing aside the tent door. “Farseer?”

He sat at one edge with scrolls, books, and candles keeping him company. His gaze was transfixed on a ring that he turned around in his fingers. He’d hold it by candlelight, admiring the glint it gave off. It wasn’t until he caught sight of me while examining the thing that Erich realized I’d been at the door.

He frowned. His face was clean from the paint he’d put on to fight in Mistwatch. “Here to complain, Sero?”

Without waiting for an invitation, I slid in and plopped down beside him. He flinched at the sudden closeness. “This alright?” I asked.

“‘s fine,” he grunted, turning his attention back to the ring. 

Erich said nothing else. Instead of speaking, I observed him. If it bothered him, he made no comment. Now so close, I had to stop myself from touching his face. He was actually quite handsome. His brilliant eyes studied the ring. His dark hair was loosely pulled back but thick strands fell out, falling against his face again. But his lips.

Dibella herself placed those full, red lips upon the man.

And damn me, I was ready to lay with a patron. Gods damn it all to Oblivion and back so the Tribunal could curse Nirn.

Instead of letting Erich in on this revelation, I nodded at the ring. “Pretty thing. Trinket?”

He sighed, a sad look playing across his face. “Fjola’s. She gave it to me. Tried to return it to Christer but he gave it as ‘payment’ for the favor.”

“Favor?” I frowned before remembering that we had, indeed, found the farmer’s wife. “Ah. Yes. Funny how that happened.”

He gave me a sidelong glance, his mouth quirked to one side.  _ Gods _ , that mouth. “You’ve something to say?” he snapped.

I held up my hands and shook my head. “Nothing at all. My mouth is stilled.” One hand fell while the other stretched out towards him, now palm up. “May I?”

As Erich’s hand dropped the ring into mine, I chanced a brush against his knuckles with my fingertips. I glanced up at him before acting fascinated with the piece of metal. His cheeks burned scarlet. I prayed it wasn’t from the heat in this tent. The ring itself was nothing special: cheap copper with a few indecipherable markings around the outside. “Definitely a farmer’s,” I confirmed. When I returned it, Erich took a turn to brush against my hand.

His fingers lingered against mine, pressing down slightly. His gaze held mine, his mouth held in a straight line. I wasn’t willing to indulge in my intuition until he raised his brows.

A question.

I answered by grasping his wrist--the ring still in my hand--and I pulled us together. I pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his blessed mouth. 

Half a breath passed between us before I used my other hand to reach behind and roughly grab his hair. I kissed him fully, dragging my tongue against his.

He pulled back a bit and gasped, “Less.”

I kissed his mouth. I moved to kiss his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard pricking my lips. I moved downward. My hand loosened its grip on his hair but I still gently tugged him to angle him so I could lick the place where his jaw met his neck. There was no grace in the way my other hand fumbled against his shirt. The ring dropped between us. I was desperately trying to find something to hold onto so I could find my balance. I lost my breath, my head. It was dizzying the way his hands cradled the back of my head to move me where he wanted me. His other hand found rest against my thigh, gripping my pants.

It had been months since I last bedded someone. Who cared if I had a soft-hearted patron who’d get himself killed? My cock just needed someone. Erich was more than happy to have me. I could get paid and get laid for as long as the Man could stay alive. He had four mercenaries. No chance of death so soon. Whatever had happened in Mistwatch could stay there for all I cared. This was nothing to either of us except the promise of sweet, regular release.

But then he groaned against my ear, “You remind me  _ so  _ much of my husband.”

Never mind. My hand was just as good delivering on that promise.

I used both hands to push him back a bit and shook my head. “I might lay with Men but not with married ones.” A moment passed before I clarified, “Married anybodies--Men, Mer, Beast.” I glanced upward in thought. “Although, I’ve only laid with that one Khajiit and I can’t really say that did it for me. He was nice enough just--”

Erich interrupted me. “He is my husband no longer”

I blinked, my mouth left open from the unspoken thoughts. “Ah, well.” I shrugged. “That’s something else entirely, yes?” I grinned, fumbling with the ties of Erich’s pants. When I felt the edge of his cock straining against fabric, I offered up a prayer of thanks to the Tribunal.  “I promise not to bore you with chatter this time. My mouth has other uses.”


End file.
